Sweeney Todd Condensed
by Sans Papiers
Summary: A slightly altered version of Sweeney Todd. This involving Anthony saying 'like' more often then the cast of 'Laguna Beach' put together, Johanna shooting up the asylum with a semiautomatic, and Sondheim's Lovely Obvious Hammer. Hilariosity ensures.
1. Act I

(Authoress's Note: Well, it's been a year about since I first started the Swiss Family Robinson slaughtering, and my sister and I figured that, since we mentioned it so much in that and in the Woman in White one, we might as well do Sweeney Todd. Just so y'alls know, I have a great respect for this musical and Stephen Sondheim. He is a god on earth. So, unlike my two previous ones, this is not meant to greatly debase the musical. At all.)

(Some place. There's some machine-y type thing in the background, but no one can really discern what it is. Members of the chorus walk on, carrying something in a canvas corpse bag. It is put in the machine-y type thing.)

Chorus: We're the creepy, the obscure, and most of us are well past the deep end, but we're the narrators and we're just awesome like that.

Select Chorus Members: Crash Course of the play in creepy spasmodic awesome choir fashion and lovely minor key starting…..NOW!

1: Sweeney was like, totally creepy.

2: The barber shop was on FLEET STREET.

3: He was very good at cleaning up.

4: He even creeped out the rats.

5: Yeah….he was really creepy.

Chorus: Now, let us repeat the chorus many times in a lovely minor round to raise suspense to an insane level. (They do so, increasing in volume and pitch until…)

Whistle: TWEEEEEEEEE!

Audience: My eardrums are broken…

Sondheim: Humph. Wimps.

(Sweeney walks out of the machine-y thing.)

Sweeney: HEEEEEEEERE'S SWEENEY! (I do not own anything pertaining to 'The Shining', nor do I own Jack Nicholson.)

Chorus: Now onto stuff that actually pertains to the plot. Don't worry- we'll be back for segues.

(Cut to a dockside. Anthony and Sweeney appear, newly arrived from sailing around the world.)

Anthony: OMFG, IT'S LONDON!

Sweeney: Yes. It is London, Anthony.

Anthony: OMFG, I LIKE TOTALLY LOVE LONDON!

Sweeney: Ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Anthony: (wide eyes) What, you don't love London too, Mr. Todd?

Sweeney: Anthony, my poor, terribly simple friend, you are an optimist, and therefore stupid. Now, let me dissolve into a pit of insight as to my former life.

Anthony: OMFG, I LIKE TOTALLY LOVE PITS OF INSIGHT!

Sweeney: (blinks) Anyhoo, there was a barber and his wife. And she was uber pretty. And there were these two guys that really wanted her, but she was a good wife, so she didn't give in. And so the guys -btw, here's a plot point: One of the guys was a judge and the other a beadle- sent the barber to Australia for FIFTEEN FRICKIN' YEARS (twitch) and now the barber has come back and will totally stalk them down and kill them for stealing his wife, even though he doesn't know for sure if they did. The barber will kill them. Kill them good and dead. Heh heh.

Anthony: …So, the barber is supposed to be you…?

Sweeney: It's Sondheim hitting the audience on the head with the Obvious Hammer, noob. Just smile and nod.

Anthony: OKAY!

Beggar Woman: ALMS, ALMS, GIMME ALMS. NEED MONEY FOR MY ARSENIC ADDICTION- I mean, for a better life. Yes.

Anthony: Okay! (He gives her a few coins.)

Beggar Woman: (Raises eyebrows suggestively. Looks Anthony up and down.)

Anthony: (So does not get what she's doing.)

Beggar Woman: INNNUENDOOOOOOO.

Anthony: (Blinks.) Pardon?

Beggar Woman: Whatevs. (Sees Sweeney. Raises eyebrows suggestively.) HEY MICKEY, YOU SO FINE, YOU SO FINE YOU BLOW MY MIND HEY MICKEY! (A/N: I do not own that song in any way shape or form.) (Blinks) (Stares) Hey! I totally know you!

Sweeney: No, you do not. And VETO. SO, SO, SO, SO, SO VETO.

Beggar Woman: Whatevs. ALMS ALMS NEED ARSENIC MONEY FLIBBERTS IN THE MEAT PIES! (Wanders off.)

Anthony: Dude, she's just a crazy woman. No need to flip out, homie.

Sweeney: Oh you poor, misguided fool. I'm ditching you now.

Anthony: OMFG, YOU ARE LIKE TOTALLY MY HOMIE. I'M LIKE TOTALLY COMING WITH YOU!

Sweeney: … Veto.

Anthony: Whatevs. See ya. (Goes off following something shiny he saw.)

Sweeney: God, I hate humanity.

(Cut to Mrs. Lovett's meat shop. Sweeney enters tentatively.)

Mrs. Lovett: OMFG, IT'S PATTI LUPONE! BACK, DEMON, BACK! IT'S _MY_ ROLE NOW!

Sweeney: ………

Mrs. Lovett: Oh, it's just a creepy, vaguely familiar-looking gentleman. Sorry about that, guv'nor. It's just that when she's played your character you gets a little jumpy.

Sweeney: Understandable.

Mrs. Lovett: So, are you going to buy one of the pies? A fine-looking gentleman like yourself?

Sweeney: (Looks at the pies. Automatically regrets it.) Actually I was just leav-

Mrs. Lovett: It's just hard, y'know, because I haven't had a customer in weeks and times is real hard, sir. You will have a pie, right?

Sweeney: … … … Do I have a choice?

Mrs. Lovett: No. Here. Pie. Eat now.

Sweeney: (Eats the pie. Dies.)

Mrs. Lovett: Oh dear. It's just that times is so hard nowadays and I don't have any money and meat is so expensive. Mrs. Mooney's pies sell really well, but you know, that's probably because all her neighbor's cats have disappeared, nudge nudge wink wink.

Sweeney: (Eyes the pie he just ate. Dies some more.)

Mrs. Lovett: No, no, I personally find lard a lot better than cat meat. Easier to catch, too.

Sweeney: That's not exactly comforting. Anyhoo, if 'times is so hard', why don't you just rent out the rooms on top of the store? Btw, I so totally did not use to live there with my wife Lucy. So I totally have absolutely no connection to the rooms whatsoever. Yes. (Shifty eyes)

Mrs. Lovett: Well, I can't rent out the rooms 'cause everyone thinks they're haunted.

Sweeney: By the vengeful soul of a barber whose wife was raped and who will now track down those did it until the end of time?

Mrs. Lovett: … … …

Sweeney: (shifty eyes) It was an educated guess. Do tell the story.

Mrs. Lovett: O…K… So, there was this barber and his wife. And OMFG HE WAS SO FRICKIN' HOT. (coughs). I mean, vaguely attractive. Anyhoo, he got deported to Australia. His name was Barker. Benjamin Barker.

Sweeney: Why was he deported?

Mrs. Lovett: Oh, the usual. Had a hot wife and some old guy with a lot of money and power wanted her. So this _Judge Turpin_ (PLOT POINT) deported Barker, leaving the woman with nothing but grief and a year old girl. Named… (Ominous pause)…_Johanna_.

Sweeney: But what happened after he was deported?

Mrs. Lovett: Turpin called on the wife saying how he felt just awful 'bout all the mess- invited her to a ball at his house. So she goes there, and of course she doesn't know anyone there, so, of course, she drinks a lot. (Mutters) Was the sort that would drink… (Phony smile) Anyway, she goes around askin' after Judge Turpin, and he comes out and rapes her, right there in front of everyone.

Sweeney: (twitches violently)

Mrs. Lovett: They all thought she was stupid, of course, they just stood there and laughed and then she came back here, where she and her family lived, and drank arsenic –

Sweeney: (Runs screaming out of the building, does a couple of laps around the city screaming all the way and calmly walks back to the shop.) (Coughs)

Mrs. Lovett: Benjamin Barker?

Sweeney: Sweeney. Sweeney Todd. What happened to my Lucy?

Mrs. Lovett: (Shifty eyes.) Like I said. Drank arsenic.

Chorus: PLOT POINT.

Sweeney: So…she's dead?

Mrs. Lovett: Mumph.

Sweeney: OH MY GOD HOW CAN LIFE GO ON? Now. Would you be a dear and tell me where this Judge Turpin lives so I may stalk him down and kill him?

Mrs. Lovett: … … … Maybe that wouldn't be the best form of action.

Sweeney: Do you have any alternatives?

Mrs. Lovett:… … …

Sweeney: Thought so. Ta! (starts to leave)

Mrs. Lovett: DON'T GO I LUUURVE YOU! (Coughs) I mean, please, do stay. Look! I still have your razors! (Brings forth a box of uber shiny silver razors) See? See the pretty shiny?

Sweeney: Shiny.

Mrs. Lovett: Yes, Mr. Todd.

Sweeney: Me like shiny.

Mrs. Lovett: Uh…

Sweeney: My friends…I luuuurve you…

Mrs. Lovett: Mr. Todd…

Sweeney: Don't worry, my friends. Soon you'll drip rubies. Precious rubies…

Mrs. Lovett: God, you're so hot when you're creepy. (Coughs) I mean, you can stay here. Open up your barber shop again. Start a mass killing spree on every single man who walks into your barber shop. Eventually fall in love with me. Join the cast of 'The Woman in White'. Anything you want.

Sweeney: My pretties…

Chorus: And that's how the obsessive compulsive revenge started. Now. SEGUE!

(Cut to Johanna, Sweeney and Lucy's daughter, raised as Judge Turpin's ward, watching the pretty birds being sold under her window.)

Johanna: Gosh, being the ward of a rich creepy guy really isn't all it's cracked up to be. But I'm a beautiful, young, blonde soprano, so nothing can go wrong for me in this musical, right?

Chorus: (shuffles feet awkwardly.)

Johanna: I am like the birds there. Why do you sing, birdies? Are you happy/sad/emo/depressed/suicidal/insane/high?

Birdies: Twirp?

Johanna: Gosh, I hate being me. ANGST ANGST ANGST. (Bangs head against wall in manner of Leroux!Christine)

Anthony: (strolls past. Does a double take on Johanna.) OMFG, I LIKE TOTALLY LOVE YOU! Wow. Her hair is like…yellow…wow.

Johanna: (So does not notice Anthony.)

Anthony: HELLOOOOO? PRETTY BLONDE SOPRANO?

Johanna: (Catches reflection in mirror) WHO'S THE PRETTY ONE! I'M THE PRETTY ONE! WHO'S PRETTIER THAN MARIAN? I'M PRETTIER THAN MARIAN! (See Woman in White Summary for the original of this)

Anthony: HELLLLOOOOOO!

Johanna: (Looks down. Sees Anthony.) Heh heh. Cutie sailor guy.

Anthony: Omfg she's like totally looking at me! (Buys a birdie) This is for you.

Johanna: Gosh, if it weren't for the two stories, windowsill, obsessive compulsive guardian, moat with alligators, ring of flame, and various atomic landmines between us, I would so totally make out with you.

Anthony: Heh heh…heh heh…

Judge Turpin and Beadle Bamford: (Happen to walk by at the worst possible moment.)

Turpin: (in a bad Italian-Mafia accent) Youse-a lookin' at my ward, punk?

Beadle: Yeah?

Turpin: 'Cause if youse are, it might be-a just the last thing youse do, capische?

Beadle: Yeah. (Takes the bird Anthony bought and breaks its neck.) Don' make us do the same-a to youse. (They go in the house.)

Beggar Woman: (Happens to pass by.) (Sees Anthony.) Heeeeey, it's the hot sailor who gave me money before!

Anthony: Who was that beautiful girl with an overprotective perverted guardian?

Beggar Woman: BAAAAAAAAA.

Anthony: … Wtf?

Beggar Woman: Don't mind that, t'was just me old sane mind screaming out a plot point.

Sondheim's Obvious Hammer: Whoops, a little late on that. PLOT POINT WITH THE BEGGAR WOMAN, AISLE TWO!

Beggar Woman: Anyhoo, that's Johanna, Turpin's ward. But be careful- tamper there, and it's a good whippin' for ye. (Looks Anthony up and down.) HEY MICKEY, YOU SO FINE- (A/N: I _still_ do not own that song.)

Anthony: No. Just no.

Beggar Woman: Boo. But seriously, you go near that girl and Judge Turpin will nail your head to his Wall o' Heads of Guys-Who-Looked-At-My-Johanna.

Anthony: Crap.

Beggar Woman: Ta. (Scampers off shouting about flibberts in the meat pies.)

Anthony: Okay. This calls for intelligence, savoir-faire, craft, wisdom, and a lot of money. None of which I have. Oh well. JOHANNA I'M LIKE TOTALLY GOING TO STEAL YOU! And then we'll be together. Me and you and your yellow hair. Do they think that walls can hide you? Well, Judge Turpin's walls, fences, moats, alligators, ring of fire, atomic landmines are no match for Anthony the Hot Sailor! (Strikes a heroic pose, more than slightly reminiscent of a Ken doll. Or GI Joe.)

(Cut to a street somewhere in London. Toby is having fun being a sleazy businessman.)

Toby: YO! NEW CHARACTER TO SHOWER LOVE UPON!

Audience: AWWWW. A little Cockney boy is selling stuff and singing! We love him so! Nothing bad could possibly happen to him, right?

Chorus: (Shuffles feet awkwardly)

Toby: You should totally buy this hair stuff. I went bald from some disease-y thing, used this and now I have Hot Guy Hair. All thanks to Pirelli, Barber God Extraordinaire.

Girls in the Audience: (swoon – despite the fact that Toby is about thirteen)

Toby: Pirelli's Elixir is totally amazing. Soon, you too can look this attractive. Give me money. Now.

Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett: (happen by)

Sweeney: Dude. Something totally smells like piss.

Mrs. Lovett: God, I mean, I know we're in the slums of 19th century London, but this is just…_ew_.

Toby: PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE DOUBTING MAN AND WOMAN OVER THERE. Give me money. Now. You wouldn't want poor Toby t'be beaten, would you?

Chorus: Dude, this is totally just piss with ink.

Toby: LIES, LIES, SHAMELESS LIES-

Chorus: Dude, we just gave you all our money for piss with ink.

Toby: LIES, LIES-

Chorus: Dude, we're like totally going to go Puritan Witch Hunt on your sorry butt. (A/N: I do not own any Puritan Witch Hunts and have only chased a suspected witch down a street with a torch and pitchfork six times.)

Toby: Crap.

Pirelli: (Enters majestically) Is-a der someone who say my-a elixir is-a piss?

Chorus: (shuffles awkwardly) No, no, we're good Londoners- wouldn't dream of doubting a guy with a fake Italian accent.

Sweeney: Dude, this is piss. Duh.

Pirelli: OH NO YOU DIDN'T! Barber-Off – right here, right now.

Sweeney: BRING IT, FOOL!

Pirelli: If you-a win, I admit I'm a fraud and I'll give-a you five pounds from this pretty purse.

Sondheim's Obvious Hammer: PLOT POINT ON THE PURSE, AISLE FIVE.

Pirelli: But, if-a I win, I get-a your pretty shiny razors.

Chorus: (stunned inhale of breath)

Sweeney: (is shocked) Not- not my _friends_. They're the only ones who truly understand me.

Pirelli: Dude, if-a your razors are-a you closest friends, what does that say about-a you?

Sweeney: SHUT UP. I HAVE LOTS OF FRIENDS. Beadle Bamford, one of our lovely plot-points, would you be our judge?

Beadle: Sure. Hokay. Shave-Off is the first event. Ready……GO!

Sweeney: (Aside) Aha. My diabolical scheme comes into action. MUAHHAHAHAHAHA!

Pirelli: Dude, I am-a soo coolio. You-a love-a me soo much. I shave-a da Pope. Si. I just cool like dat. Now, I shall go on a lovely song about being-a such-a awesome barber. (He does so – with many manly-high notes.)

Sweeney: (shaves his person in about three seconds, and perfectly so)

Beadle: Todd wins. Next event: Tooth-Pulling-Off.

Guy in Chorus: I WANT A TOOTH PULLED! PICK ME, PICK ME!

Sweeney: Hokay, if you really want it. Anyone else?

Chorus: (Silence)

Crickets: (Chirp)

Sweeney: Okay, guess that means I win.

Pirelli: Toby. Don't-a you think one of your-a teeth hurts?

Toby: Act'ally, guv'nor, me teeth are just peachy. I mean, even as a kid raised in the slums of industrialized London, I've always managed to make time for dental 'ygiene-

Pirelli: Dude. Just get in the frickin' chair before I kill you dead and drop your body in the Thames with some cement shoes.

Toby: (Shuts up. Sits in chair.)

Pirelli: Hokay, you must-a be very careful when-a pulling da teeth.

Toby: Ow…

Pirelli: I mean, one-a slip with the grip and-a you chip off the tip of-a it, or you pull-a vein or something, I dunno, I never really studied all that junk. But-a seriously: you can-a like totally kill-a someone with the tooth-a pulling-

Toby: Mr. Pirelli, sir, that really hurts-

Pirelli: But I, I pull-a da teeth very well-a-

Toby: OH MY GOD, JUST KILL ME ALREADY, GOD THIS IS HELL OH MY GOD-

Pirelli: Boy. Remember what I said about the killing you dead. You keep screaming and you'll think what you're feeling now is heaven.

Toby: (blacks out)

Crowd: (horrified silence)

Pirelli: Ah, children with sudden blood loss tell the ugliest lies.

Crowd: (is appeased) Awww.

Sweeney: (Pulls his guy's tooth in ten seconds with no pain whatsoever.) AW. WHO DA SUCKER NOW, ITALIAN PUNK?

Pirelli: Dude. You have-a so totally just showed up da wrong-a Italian barber. (Makes sweeping exit.)

Londoners: OMFG, SWEENEY'S LIKE A TOTALLY AWESOME BARBER! Everyone shower him with love and affection!

Sweeney: Ah, showers of love and affection.

Mrs. Lovett: The shop's right above my pie shop.

Londoners: (run screaming through the city.)

Mrs. Lovett: No one loves me.

Beadle: Wow, Mr. Todd. That was some really awesome Barber-Off-ing.

Sweeney: (manly smile) Well, it's what I do.

Beadle: Expect me at your shop this week.

Sweeney: AHA! YOU HAVE FALLEN FOR MY TRAP! MUAHHAHAHAHA- (Mrs. Lovett wraps his mouth shut with duct tape.) umf.

Mrs. Lovett: So you'll come this week?

Beadle: Definitely. Hey- you look vaguely like the husband of that hot chick me and Turpin wanted to nail about seventeen years ago.

Sweeney: … … …

Mrs. Lovett: … … …

Chorus: … … … (awkward shuffle)

Mrs. Lovett: Well, it's…not…him. Must be…some other…revenge obsessed barber…?

Beadle: Well, I assumed that-

Mrs. Lovett: He's…my...uncle's…cousin…five times removed…from Soviet Russia…(A/N: I do not own Soviet Russia, nor the USSR.)

Sweeney: (In sudden very bad Russian accent.) But even in de Soviet Russia, ve hear de stories of de Beadle Bamford und his vonderful good vill.

Beadle: Aw sucks.

Sweeney: And when you come to my tonsorial parlor-

Chorus: IN FLEET STREET.

Sweeney: -I shall be certain to give you the closest shave ever. [Aside Yes. So close you'll be DEAD. Muahahahahahahaha!

Chorus: And that's enough of that. SEGUE!

(Cut to Judge Turpin stalking Johanna in a manner normally reserved for unregistered sex offenders.)

Turpin: Whoa. How did I not notice for seventeen years that the daughter of that lady I raped and her creepy revenge obsessed barber husband was frickin hot?

Johanna: (Sooo does not notice her adoptive father watching her through the keyhole.)

Turpin: NO NO LUST BAD AM GOOD CHRISTIAN- God, she really is hot. Hokay. I'll just marry her. That'll work out great.

(In Johanna's Room.)

Johanna: Hum. Foster Daddy's been acting weirdly lately. Normally hot sailors buying me birds only mean I'm locked inside for a few hours, but this three week thing is a bit obsessive, even for Foster Daddy.

Turpin: (Enters abruptly.) We're getting married.

Johanna: (Blinks) …Wtf?

Turpin: We shall be married on Monday. Because...um…the world is an evil place and you must be protected from it.

Johanna: Foster Daddy, don't you think it is INSANELY AWKWARD AND JUST NOT AT ALL RIGHT for you to marry the girl you have raised as your daughter?

Turpin: (Thinks.) …No. Hey- it works out fine in The Count of Monte Cristo! (Exits.)

(Cut to the meat pie and barber shop.)

Beggar Woman: HEEEEEEY Nice Bad-Pie-Making Lady, would'ye like to give me money for me arsenic addiction?

Mrs. Lovett: (Pause.) I will kill you in your sleep if you come here again. How many times do I have to say that?

Beggar Woman: Lots. Me memory ain't been so good since I swallowed the arsenic. (Pause) Oh, shiny… (Wanders off.)

Mrs. Lovett: God…Oh well. HOT BARBER STALKING TIME! (She goes upstairs to visit Sweeney.)

Sweeney: What are you doing here? I'm having a deep talk with my razors. See, this one just broke up with that one, and it's causing so much emotional scarring on their kid-

Mrs. Lovett: Strangely enough, I did not come up here to hear the traumas of your razors.

Sweeney: Look, Mrs. Lovett, you are my friend and they are my friends. You're going to have to live together.

Mrs. Lovett: Whatevs. Anyhoo, this tonsorial parlor barber shop-

Chorus: IN FLEET STREET.

Mrs. Lovett: -thing that you have going on looks a lot more like a prison.

Sweeney: Where do you think I was for the past fifteen years? Prison atmosphere soothes me.

Mrs. Lovett: Come on. Some new paint, a bowl of flowers, and this place could look like it had a makeover from one of those really bad TLC remodeling shows! (I own neither TLC channel, nor a really bad remodeling show on TLC.)

Sweeney: Veto. And where's Beadle Bamford? I want to kill him!

Mrs. Lovett: God, you are frickin' obsessed.

Sweeney: Am not!

Mrs. Lovett: If you dedicated all your energy, time and money into killing two people, then you are obsessed.

(Anthony bursts in.)

Anthony: OMFG, MR. TODD! I'VE LIKE TOTALLY FOUND YOU!

Sweeney: Oh God, just kill me now…

Anthony: OMFG, I HAVE, LIKE, SO MUCH TO TELL YOU! So yesterday I'm just, like, y'know, like, walking through, like, London, and like, I like totally saw this like really pretty girl with, like, yellow hair, and like, her foster dad's like uber protective, but I like totally know she likes me 'cause like she like totally dropped a key to the house from, like, her window to where she knew I would, like, find it.

Mrs. Lovett: Where she knew you would, like, find it?

Anthony: Well, it's hard to not miss me- I've been like watching her through her window twenty four seven for like the past three months.

Mrs. Lovett: …Ah…

Anthony: Anyhoo, I'm like totally like going to steal her. We're like totally going to move to Plymouth and it's like going to be hella chill and we're like gonna have like an ice cream machine and like a space ship and like a mini golf course and it's going be awesome. Can I keep her here while I get a coach to take us there?

Mrs. Lovett: Yes. You can. Now go. I think I saw something shiny down the road.

Anthony: OMFG I LIKE TOTALLY LOVE SHINY THINGS! (He runs off.)

Sweeney: He is taking MY DAUGHTER to live on the OTHER FRICKIN SIDE OF ENGLAND?

Mrs. Lovett: Well, worse comes to worst, you can just kill him and we'll live here with Johanna and be a happy little family. I've always wanted a daughter.

Sweeney: Sweet.

(Pirelli and Toby enter.)

Pirelli: Yo. You-a die now, Barber Punk.

Mrs. Lovett: Um…me and Toby'll just get out of your way. (She looks at Toby.) Whoa. Even by the standards of 19th century London, this is a lot of child abuse on one kid. Come. You can eat some of my pies.

Toby: Actually, mum, I'd rather jus' die bein' starved and beaten by Signor Pirelli, mum.

Mrs. Lovett: Too bad. (They exit.)

Mr. Todd: Look, Signor Pirelli-

Pirelli: (Now Irish) Actually, it's just Danny O'Higgins when I'm not tryin' a-sell stuff, Benjamin Barker.

Sweeney: Um…

Pirelli: Yeah, about that… Remember that little Irish boy you hired right before you got taken to Australia? That was me. I recognized you by these razors. So now it's half of yer profits or I go have a talk with me homie Beadle Bamford. Ja. I'm jes cool like dat. Oooh, pretty razors. (He picks up one of the razors.)

Sweeney: OH, HELL NO, IRISH PUNK. AND YOU TAKE YO' HANDS OFF MY HOMIES! (He slits Pirelli's throat with the razor.)

(Meanwhile in the meat pie shop…)

Toby: GAWD! Pirelli's got a tailor appointment and it'll be my 'ead if 'e's late! (He runs back to the parlor. Sweeney has stuffed Pirelli in a trunk.)

Sweeney: Pirelli's not here. He left suddenly. For Soviet Russia. Go back to the pie shop.

Toby: Mr. Todd, you wouldn't 'aves mistakenly kilt Signor Pirelli, would'ye?

Sweeney: (awkward pause.) NO. Now go back downstairs and tell Mrs. Lovett to give you a good many glasses of gin and anything she can think of to make you forget you ever talked to me.

Toby: OKAY! (He skips downstairs.)

Chorus: AND…SEGUE TO ANTHONY AND JOHANNA!

Johanna: OMFG, HE'S LIKE TOTALLY GOING TO MARRY ME AND WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM-

Anthony: I have a plan-

Johanna: SHUT UP, ANTHONY-KINS, ANYHOO IF HE DOES MARRY ME I'M TOTALLY JUST GONNA KILL MYSELF-

Anthony: Kiss me!

(Pause.)

Johanna: …

Anthony: Anyhoo, I like totally have a plan. Sunday I'll like totally steal you and we'll go to France, or Spain, or Italy or the moon and eat ice cream and play mini-golf and it'll be like totally awesome!

Johanna: OKAY, ANTHONY-KINS!

(Cut to Beadle Bamford and Judge Turpin walking.)

Turpin: So, turns out, Johanna's really frickin' hot. So I'm gonna marry her on Monday.

Beadle: (pause) And you don't feel there's anything wrong with a seventy year old man marrying the sixteen year old girl he's raised as his daughter?

Turpin: Of course there's nothing wrong with that. But you know what, when I told her this, she freaked out. Started screaming stuff about pedophiles, creepiness and everything... Then she kept turning on the gas and closing all windows and doors, so I just locked her in her room for another few months.

Beadle: Did you think she'd maybe have reason on the being freaked out by this?

Turpin: …No. What are you implying?

Beadle: Well…It's just that…you see…you're kind of really, really ol-

Turpin: Go on. (Picks up Anne's bazooka which Walter left after a good talk with Sweeney.) (See 'A Horrid Summery' for more of Anne's bazooka)

Beadle: (thinks) Well, you see, girls, they place a lot on a man's…looks.

Turpin: Yeah. I'm supposed to take girl advice from you? You sing almost as high as Johanna-Pookie-Pie, and she's the blonde soprano in this musical.

Beadle: Shut up. Anyway, when courting a girl a good number of decades/centuries younger than you, personal appearance is an issue.

Turpin: Youse a-sayin' I'm ugly, punk?

Beadle: …No…Just that…well, for instance…um…

Turpin: Yes?

Beadle: You shave badly.

Turpin: …Wtf?

Beadle: Yes! Shaving is very important to young ladies nowadays. They won't care if your several centuries older than them, most likely a pedophile, raped their mother and sent their father to Australia as long as you shave well.

Turpin: Wow! Brilliant, Beadle Bamford! How do I get past my shaving badly?

Beadle: Well, there's this new barber. He's uber kewl. I'll take you to him.

Turpin: Wow! That's convenient as I was just about to go into my house and see if that annoying sailor was still stalking Johanna. Oh well.

(Meanwhile, inside…)

Anthony: KISS ME, JOHANNA-POOKIE-PIE!

Johanna: OKAY, ANTHONY-KINS!

(Cut to the meat pie/barber shop.)

Mrs. Lovett: So…Pirelli is actually some Irish kid…and he knew about you being Benjamin Barker…and he was going to blackmail…and he touched one of your razors…so you-

Sweeney: Strangled him dead, slit his throat with my razors, and tossed him in the trunk.

Mrs. Lovett: …Right…

(Outside the window, Judge Turpin walks up to have a good shave.)

Sweeney: OMFG, IT'S THAT DUDE I WANNA KILL! (He tosses Mrs. Lovett out the window as Turpin enters the shop.)

Sweeney: (coughs) Ahem. Hello.

Turpin: I need a shave because my sixteen year old ward that I'm going to marry on Monday thinks I'm ugly.

Sweeney: …

Turpin: Chop chop, barber!

Sweeney: Yes…chop… (He takes out his razors.) OMFG, GUYS, THIS IS SO FRICKIN' AWESOME! I _so_ am MySpace-ing about this later. (I do not own anything pertaining to MySpace, not even an account.)

Turpin: Dude. Make with the shave, baby, no gas.

Sweeney: You know what's cool? Pretty women.

Turpin: Yeah. They're hellsa cool.

Sweeney: Yeah. Anyhoo… (He is about to cut Turpin's throat when Anthony bursts in.)

Anthony: OMFG, MR. TODD, JOHANNA-POOKIE-PIE'S LIKE TOTALLY GONNA MARRY ME- (He sees Judge Turpin.) Oh crap.

Turpin: YOU DIE! YOU DIE NOW! That's it. Johanna-Snookum's going away. For a long time.

Anthony: Hey. That's, like, totally un-cool, man.

Turpin: And you! Barber! I am soo never coming here again! (He storms out.)

(Awkward moment.)

Anthony: Look, Mr. Todd, I'm like, really, like sorry about you loosing a really high paying client-

Sweeney: Anthony. Go before I am forced to kill you and dump you in the trunk along with Pirelli.

Anthony: (edges out of the shop quietly.)

Mrs. Lovett: (Enters) I heard loud death threats. Everything all right in here?

Sweeney: He's gone. He's never coming back.

Mrs. Lovett: Oh.

Sweeney: WE ALL DESERVE TO DIE. And now I'll never get to see Johanna-Pookie-Pie again and my Lucy-Snookum's dead-

Mrs. Lovett: MUMPH.

Sweeney: -And God, life is crappy right now. Okay. I'll just start my killing spree now.

(Pause.)

Mrs. Lovett: O…k…So. What are we going to do about Pirelli?

Sweeney: Eh. Mail the body parts separately to his relatives. Put in the bed of someone we don't life. Keep it in the parlor as a conversation piece.

Mrs. Lovett: Um…actually, how about we take the meat of the bones and use it to make pies?

Sweeney: (thinks.) Okay.

Mrs. Lovett: Sweet.

Chorus: ACT BREAK!!!!!!!!!!


	2. Act II

(When we come back from intermission, Mrs. Lovett's meat pie shop is rather better in business. Much better.)

Londoners: OMFG, THESE PIES ARE SO FRICKIN' AWESOME!

Audience: (Is more than slightly horrified.)

Sondheim: (Pops up) Oh, and btw, there was an actual Mrs. Lovett and Sweeney Todd who killed people and put them into pies, and yes, the Londoners did love them and eat them. Cheers! (Pops away)

Audience: (Stunned silence.)

Toby: HEY, Y'ALLS! I'M BACK!

Audience: YAY!

Toby: Y'alls gotta love these pies. The lady that makes them totally took me in and gives me gin, so she's like really awesome. Now. Cheer for Cockney orphans with mother figures!

Mrs. Lovett: Ah, I love having people who don't treat my food with as much disgust as someone saying 'MacBeth' in a theater.

Londoners: These pies are hella chill, man.

(Upstairs, Sweeney's fancy new barber chair arrives.)

Sweeney: Oh my god. This is the sweetest thing I have ever seen. MRS. LOVETT! MRS. LOVETT! I GOT A PRETTY CHAIR!

Mrs. Lovett: Yes, Mr. Todd.

Sweeney: MRS. LOVETT, COME SEE MY PRETTY CHAIR!

Mrs. Lovett: Later, Mr. Todd. The grown-ups are busy selling Cannibalism!Pies.

Sweeney: MRS. LOVETTTTTTT! COME SEEEE THE PREEEEETY CHAIR!!!!

Mrs. Lovett: Fine.

Sweeney: See here I made it go all preeeeeetty, and here I drew a pretty doodle of a car, and then here's a skull with flames on it, so now it's like, uber pretty, and then I also made it kick-ass awesome by having a trapdoor underneath it drop into the bake house under the shop.

Mrs. Lovett: Wow. That is cool. And gets rid of the potentially awkward situation of bumping into neighbours whilst carrying dead bodies to the bake house. Okay. Got to go sell Cannibalism!Pies now. You have fun playing with your pretty chair, Mr. Todd. (She exits)

Sweeney: Okay. Mr. Shiny Razor, meet Mr. Pretty Chair. We're going to have soo much fun together!

(Cut to night. Anthony stalks London searching for Johanna.)

Anthony: JOHANNA-POOKIE-PIE! I MISS YOU!

Sweeney: Ah, my dear Johanna, soon we will be happy normal family again. I miss you so much. I bet you're really pretty. I bet you look exactly like Lucy-Snookums.

Mrs. Lovett: La dee dum dum…Tossing dead guys into pies…Oh what fun…(She tosses body parts into the bake house. Smoke comes out.)

Beggar Woman: DON'T YOU NOOBS SEE THIS? THE PIES ARE MADE OF PEOPLE!

Londoners: Shun the arsenic addicted lady. SHUUUUUUNNNNN! SHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNN! (See 'Charlie the Unicorn' on YouTube. I do not own YouTube or the concept, movie, characters, or mafia of Charlie the Unicorn.)

(Cut to Mrs. Lovett and Sweeney talking.)

Mrs. Lovett: Ah, this is such a lovely pianoforte. Such good fortune it was only singed when the church burned down.

Sweeney: Mumph.

Mrs. Lovett: You know what we totally should do? Go live together by the sea.

Sweeney: Mumph.

Mrs. Lovett: No, it'd totally be sweet. We'd get this pretty house, we'd have fish, we'd get married-

Sweeney: What part of 'Mumph' do you not get?

Mrs. Lovett: -We'd have chums over on Friday's to play cards, we'd have a guest house for weekend trippers, every so often you could kill off the guest…

Sweeney: (thinks.) Go on.

Mrs. Lovett: Ah, we'd be so happy together.

Sweeney: Speaking of happiness, LUCY, LUCY, I MISS YOU SO MUCH I COULD NEVER STOP LOVING YOU, NO MATTER WHAT!

Mrs. Lovett: Bargh.

Anthony: (runs inside.) OMFG, MR. TODD, I'VE LIKE TOTALLY FOUND JOHANNA!

Sweeney: Sweet!

Anthony: She's hanging with Laura from Woman in White at a lunatic asylum. You see; the connections between Sweeney Todd and Woman in White just never stop.

Sweeney: She's in a mad house? Sweet!

Anthony: …

Sweeney: Anthony, where do you think people get hair for wigs?

Anthony: The hair factory?

Sweeney: …There really is no point in talking to you, is there?

Anthony: Hey. I resent that.

Sweeney: Oh, Anthony the poor, misled optimist, all the wig makers get their hair from lunatics in asylums. You'll go to the guy in charge and ask for hair exactly the same colour as Johanna's, which is…

Anthony: (thinks very hard.) Red…Orange…Yellow…

Sweeney: Yes, very good, yellow. But you'll have to be more specific that that.

Anthony: Green…Blue… Cheese…Twenty-one…Johnny Depp… (Sadly the authoress does not own Johnny Depp)

Chorus: SEGUE TO LATER IN THE DAY!!!

Sweeney: -And do not be afraid to kill if you have to. We must get my lovely Johanna back safely. (He gives Anthony a gun.)

Anthony: SWEET! I'm like totally awesome at Zombie Shootout III. I'll be like totally awesome in shooting people too!

Sweeney: Now go. I must undermine you to fulfill my own revenge obsession.

Anthony: SWEET! (He skips off.)

Chorus: Sweeney's writing a letter to Turpin telling him that Anthony's going to steal Johanna, but that Sweeney convinced him to bring Johanna to his tonsorial parlor-

Everyone: IN FLEET STREET.

Chorus: So Turpin can come and rescue Johanna. Now. SEGUE!!!!

(Cut to Toby and Mrs. Lovett.)

Toby: Just so you know, I have not in anyway caught onto your scheme of killing people and putting them into pies, but, I'd do anything for you, mum. No one's gonna hurt you, not while I'm around. I mean, even if Dick Cheney came and asked you to go hunting with him, I chop off his head and stab a stake through his heart, like they do in Dracula. (I do not own Dracula, stakes, or Dick Cheney, and nor do I support hunting or the unchecked killing of vampires.)

Mrs. Lovett: What a vaguely ominous thing to say, Toby.

Toby: Mrs. Lovett, did you kill Signor Pirelli and put him in a pie?

Mrs. Lovett: … … … NO.

Toby: Mrs. Lovett-

Mrs. Lovett: Toby, shut up before I have to tell Mr. Todd to kill you. Here. Have some sugar. (She produces a purse and hands Toby a chocolate.)

Toby: GAAAAHHHH!

Mrs. Lovett: What was that for? (She looks at the purse, which is, coincidently, the very one she stole from Pirelli's dead body.) Oh. Crap.

Sondheim's Obvious Hammer: I _told_ you it was a plot point.

Toby: GAAAAHHHH!

Mrs. Lovett: Um…really…he…left it here…before he left for Antarctica…

Toby: You said he went to Soviet Russia, were unibrow and moustache is sexy, and where TV watches you.

Mrs. Lovett: HEY, YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE FUN? If we went down to the bake house and forgot this entire thing ever happened. Wouldn't that be fun, Toby?

Toby: The bake house? You never let me down there!

Mrs. Lovett: Well, that's because I don't want you to see all the dead bodies but, come on, let's go!

Toby: SWEET!

(They go down to the bake house.)

Toby: Wow. It really stinks in here.

Mrs. Lovett: Uh…it's just the smell of yummy pies.

Toby: But-

Mrs. Lovett: DON'T QUESTION THE YUMMY PIES, TOBY. Now. The key to making the pies all yummy and tasty is to grind them through three times. Three times. Here. You try.

(Toby goes to the meat grinder.)

Toby: Three times. Hokay. (He starts grinding the meat through.)

Mrs. Lovett: Sweet. Ta! (She leaves, locking Toby inside.) Ah good. Another potentially bad situation craftily avoided. (She walks back to the parlor, where Beadle Bamford has let himself in and is playing the piano. And singing along.)

Beadle Bamford: MACHO MACHO MAN. I WANT TO BE A MACHO MAN-(A/N: I do not own the above song.) (He sees Mrs. Lovett.) I mean- ahem. 'Sweet Polly Plunkett lay in the grass. Turned her eyes heaven-ward, sighing, 'I am a lass who alas loves a lad who alas has a lass in Canterbury'…'

Mrs. Lovett: …

Beadle: Good afternoon, Mrs. Lovett.

Mrs. Lovett: And you normally enter people's houses without them being there and start singing and playing their piano?

Beadle: Well, when you're homies with Judge Turpin, you get privileges. So, apparently people have been complaining that the bake house stinks.

Mrs. Lovett: Ha. Why would it stink? Ha…

Beadle: Anyhoo, since my homie Judge Turpin made me Beadle, I have to take care of health regulations. Let's go have a peek at the bake house.

Mrs. Lovett: Uh…funny story about that…y'see, there was this moose…and it took the key…and then dropped it in a volcano…in Fiji…and now it's locked…and I can't get in.

Beadle: A moose, Mrs. Lovett?

Mrs. Lovett: HA HA YOU'RE RIGHT It was actually…uh…MR. TODD.

Beadle: Mr. Todd took the key and dropped it in a volcano?

Mrs. Lovett: No, no that's silly- he just has the key and he's…out.

Beadle: Then we'll wait for him. Yes?

Mrs. Lovett: Sure.

Beadle: In the mean time, I can sing. 'Ding dong, ding dong, two-'

Toby: '-bells today in the tower of Bray. Ding dong, ding dong.'

Beadle: Wtf is that?

Mrs. Lovett: That's just the emaciated Cockney orphan who helps me and who I've become a mother figure to. Pay him no mind.

Beadle: He's singing from the bake house.

Mrs. Lovett: Yeah…well…y'see…there was this moose-

Beadle: Mrs. Lovett.

Mrs. Lovett: Ha, yeah, you caught me on that- it was really…drugs.

Beadle: Drugs?

Mrs. Lovett: Yeah…Toby got in with the meth crowd, so we keep him locked in the bake house.

Beadle: Hokay. Let's sing some more.

Mrs. Lovett: How about we don't and you go away and never mention the bake house again?

Sweeney: (Enters randomly. Sees Beadle.) Wtf?

Mrs. Lovett: Oh, Mr. Todd, Beadle Bamford just came round to have a peek at the bake house. But how about you give him a shave first?

Sweeney: Mrs. Lovett, you imbecile, now is no time for a shave, this guy is going to crack our Cannibalism!Pies scheme wide open-

Mrs. Lovett: NUDGE NUDGE, WINK WINK, MR. TODD.

Sweeney: … … … OH! You mean kill him!

Mrs. Lovett: Dude, he's sitting right there.

Beadle: What? Sorry, I just totally blanked on the conversation- I found a shiny in my pocket.

Mrs. Lovett: Beadle Bamford, why doesn't Mr. Todd give you a nice shave, on the house.

Beadle: Hurrah!

Mrs. Lovett: So sad that everyone in this show can be bought by a shave.

(Cut to Toby in the bake house eating a pie.)

Toby: Yum, yum, cannibalism pies are good. (He pulls a hair from the pie.) Hey…Mrs. Lovett doesn't have black hair…must be some…black…cow… eh. Whatevs. (He eats more and finds a fingernail.) Um…ew… (He eats more and finds…) A hand, three watches and…is that a dead baby? Very clumsy, Mrs. Lovett.

(Noises from above and the dead body of Beadle Bamford slides down the chute, throat slashed.)

Toby: … … … [blinks … … … AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!! AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! (He runs out down into the catacombs, and out to the city.)

Mrs. Lovett: Oh, btw, Mr. Todd, Toby's totally guessed about the whole cannibalism pie thing.

Sweeney: K. Good thing, too. We've almost run out of 'Cockney Orphan' meat.

Mrs. Lovett: I just locked him in the bake house.

Sweeney: The bake house that has the chute down which I just tossed the slashed corpse of Beadle Bamford?

Mrs. Lovett: Yeah.

Sweeney: And that also leads down to the catacombs of London and out into the street?

Mrs. Lovett: … … … We're screwed. Okay. Let's go child hunting.

Sweeney: But the Judge is coming!

Mrs. Lovett: Mr. Todd, the Judge will still be there for you to kill when you come back.

Sweeney: But I wanna kill him now!

Mrs. Lovett: Hey! Look- Is that a shiny razor looking for a friend out there?

Sweeney: YAY! (He runs off, Mrs. Lovett following.)

Chorus: SEGUE TO MADHOUSE!!!!!

(Cut to Fogg's Asylum, where Laura and Johanna chat)

Laura: -So then Marian, who is like totally the ugly one, like totally sends my Walter-Kins away to London, and it like totally sucks because then I married Glyde, who's like, a total jerk and beat me up all the time, and then they put me here under the name of my half-sister that Glyde raped, got pregnant, and drowned the baby of, -which drove her insane- whilst they killed her as me.

Johanna: Whoa. Well, I lived as a ward to like this dude, and it was like totally chill, and then like a few months ago I met this really hot sailor named Anthony, and then Foster Daddy started getting all weird and said we were going to get married, but then Anthony-Kins said _we_ were going to get married, and then Foster Daddy found out about it and sent me here. Boo.

Laura: Wow. People really don't appreciate how hard it is to be a soprano in a gothic musical.

Johanna: Totally. Word, homie.

(Anthony walks in with Mr. Fogg)

Mr. Fogg: Actually, Mr. Wigmaker, we have a lot of blonde sopranos wrongly placed here. We have an entire wing for them. Are you sure you wouldn't like a respectable soprano blonde factory girl who's life was ruined when her boyfriend got her pregnant and left her, then a girl at her work ruined her life by telling the boss about her kid, so went to become a prostitute and got tuberculosis?

Anthony: No, no, I need a blonde soprano wrongfully placed here by her foster father who is completely lusting after her and put her here so that Anthony the Hot Sailor wouldn't steal her away.

Mr. Fogg: Oh, we only have one of those.

Anthony: One will do.

Laura: I'm sure your Anthony-Kins is no match for my Walter-Walter-Kins. I mean- Walter has manly rugged arms and is a painter. You can't just ignore that.

Johanna: No, no, Anthony-Kins is just as special. He's…uh…well… (she thinks.)

Laura: Well?

Johanna: Well…he's a sailor. And very…special…mentally. He's easily distracted by shiny things. And says 'like' more often than the cast of 'Laguna Beach'. (A/N: I do not own Laguna Beach.)

Laura: Ah.

Anthony: (sees Johanna) JOHANNA-POOKIE-DOOKIE-PIE!

Johanna: (sees Anthony) ANTHONY-KINS!

Mr. Fogg: … … …Wtf?

Anthony: Okay, Mr. Fogg. Say hello to my little friend! (A/N: I do not own that line.) (Anthony pulls out the gun.) Okay. Now press 'A' 'X' repeatedly to fire. (He tries such.) Dang! That's all you have to do on Zombie Warcraft III! How does this thing work?

Johanna: (takes an automatic Sign-Of-The-Apocalypse 4000 machine gun from her pocket and shoots Fogg dead. Also shoots the locks off the rest of the cells. And fires off a couple rounds into the ceiling just for the heck of it. Lunatics pour off into the streets.) Laura, you coming?

Laura: Sorry, I've got a few more months to slowly loose my sense of sanity before Marian and my Walter-Walter-Kins come and rescue me.

Johanna: K. Ta! (She skips off with Anthony.)

Lunatics: WHOOOOOOO!!!! WE'RE LET LOOSE ON THE REST OF THE SANE SOCIETY!!!!! HELLS YES!!!!!!

(Meanwhile, the Beggar Woman goes up to -)

Chorus: -FLEET STREET-

(-After seeing Beadle Bamford enter the shop and not exit.)

Beggar Woman: YOOOO. BEADLE. WHERE YOU AT? You should be careful of Mrs. Lovett. She totally makes people into pies. Ooh shiny…

(Anthony and Johanna run upstairs to the barber shop.)

Anthony: MR. TODD! IT'S ME! ANTHONY!

Johanna: He's not here.

Anthony: No, he probably is, he just can't stand to deal with my annoying, simpleminded optimism right now. Wait here, I'll go get the coach.

Johanna: K. And if anything bad happens, I have Anne's bazooka.

Anthony: Oh, God.

Johanna: Laura lent it to me. _She_ understands me. _She_ didn't make me dress like a sailor-guy to avoid being captured by police.

Anthony: Y'know, that 'you dressing up as a guy-ness' is going to become a plot point soon.

Johanna: I don't care. I want my pretty clothes.

Anthony: Hey! Johanna! I found a shiny! (he takes a Shiny-O'-Plenty from his pocket and gives it to Johanna to keep her amused as he skips off and as the Beggar Woman enters the shop. Johanna freaks out and hides in the chest.)

Beggar Woman: Hey…this place is like totally familiar…I like totally used to live here…

(Sweeney bounds up the stairs.)

Sweeney: Shoo.

Beggar Woman: HEY MICKEY- Wait. I like totally know you.

Sweeney: God, what is wrong with you crazy, arsenic-addicted Londoners?

Judge Turpin: HEEEERE'S JUDGE TURPIN!

Johanna in the Trunk: EEP!

Beggar Woman: EEP!

Sweeney: EEP! (Looks at the Beggar Woman.) Dude, Get out. I have a raped wife to avenge.

Beggar Woman: No, I like totally know you.

Sweeney: Boo. (He slits her throat and tosses her down the chute just as Turpin walks in.)

Judge Turpin: Yo. Where my girl, barber-punk?

Sweeney: Downstairs with Mrs. Lovett. How about a shave first?

Judge Turpin: Sure! Beadle Bamford told me that girls don't care if you're several centuries older than them and raped their mother if you have a good shave.

Sweeney: … … …Well, Beadle Bamford says a lot of things. Shave?

Judge Turpin: Totally, man.

Sweeney: Pretty women are totally awesome.

Judge Turpin: Holla. It's kewl, y'know having a guy that you can talk to like this. We're so alike.

Sweeney: Yeah. You raped my wife.

Judge Turpin: … … …Wtf?

Sweeney: Me. Benjamin Barker.

Judge Turpin: Oh. Crap.

Sweeney: YOU DIE NOW, PUNK! (He slits the Judge's throat and tosses him down a chute. He talks to his razors.) Sweet. (He walks off. Johanna gets out.)

Johanna: AHHHHHH CREEPY BARBER MAN KILLED FOSTER DADDY AAAAHHHHHH…Wait…Foster Daddy's dead…now I don't have to worry about being raped by him! VICTORY DANCE TIME!

Sweeney: (Walks in on Johanna's Victory Dance.) Um. Do I know you?

Johanna: No. Please don't kill me. I didn't see anything.

Sweeney: If I let people go for that, I'd be dead by now.

Johanna: Crap.

Sweeney: How about a shave? A nice, extremely effeminate looking young sailor like yourself?

Johanna: Um…

Mrs. Lovett: (In the bake house) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH JUDGE TURPINS' NOT DEAD!

Judge Turpin: '_I am not dead yet, I can dance and I can sing_…' (A/N: I do not own that song or any song from _Spamalot_) Oh. Wait. My throat is slit. GOODBYE, CRUEL WORLD! (dies, clutching at the hem of Mrs. Lovett's dress.)

Mrs. Lovett: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!

Whistle: TWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Sweeney: (is distracted by all of the above.)

Johanna: Now! To steal away into the night! (She runs out of the barber shop to the street below, knocking off three trashcans, setting fourteen alley cats screeching into London, and blasting a few foghorns on the way, just for fun.)

Sweeney: Boo. Now there's a witness loose. Oh well.

(In the bake house.)

Mrs. Lovett: (sees the body of the Beggar Woman) Oh crapcrapcrapcrap. Oh well. A quick sojourn in the oven will fix this little mess. (She tosses the Beggar Woman in the oven just as Sweeney comes in.)

Sweeney: Why were you screaming, noob? I just had to let an extremely effeminate sailor witness go for this. It better be good.

Mrs. Lovett: The Judge wasn't dead but now he is.

Sweeney: Okay. Now. JUDGE BAKING TIME.

Mrs. Lovett: I'm afraid I'm going to have to veto that.

Sweeney: …?

Mrs. Lovett: Y'see, Mr. Todd, there was this…moose…and…now the oven is…in Soviet Russia…

Sweeney: HEY, MRS. LOVETT! LOOK! A DISTRACTION!

(Whilst she looks, he opens the doors and tosses the judge in, and notices a body already there.)

Sweeney: Mrs. Lovett. What have I told you about burning Patti LuPone alive in the oven? Wait…that's not Patti LuPone…that's… (He drags the Beggar Woman out of the oven) MY WIFE LUCY THAT WAS RAPED BY JUDGE TURPIN, DRANK ARSENIC AND WAS PRESUMED DEAD?

Mrs. Lovett: Oh boy, this is awkward.

Sweeney: I KILLED MY LUCY? I KILLED MY LUCY?!!!!!

Mrs. Lovett: I'm just going to sidle out of here whilst you're still wallowing in a pit of self-hatred, so-

Sweeney: Mrs. Lovett. Who was it that told me that Lucy was dead?

Mrs. Lovett: Uh…y'see-

Sweeney: There was no moose, Mrs. Lovett.

Mrs. Lovett: Well…she did drink the arsenic. She just didn't die from it. And I never said she died from it, I just said 'MUMPH' really loudly whenever you mentioned it. But I did it all for you. I mean- which would you prefer? Restarting your life after 15 years in prison with a tad loony wife, or going though who knows how many months of killing sprees, baking half of London into a pie to serve to the other half of London, then to find out that you killed the wife you loved? Besides, I love you more than she ever could.

Sweeney: (thinks) (twitches manically.) Yes. Yes. I see now. Let's dance, Mrs. Lovett.

Mrs. Lovett: (blinks.) Serious?

Sweeney: Oh hell no. PSYCH! (He shoves her in the oven with Judge Turpin and locks the door.) Sweet. LUCY, LUCY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HOW ARE YOU DEAD OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I KILLED YOU-

Toby: HEEEEEEEEERE'S TOBY! (In the past few hours since he discovered the Cannibalism!Pie scheme, Toby seriously lost any semblance of marbles that he once had. And now his hair is white.)

Audience: (blinks)

Toby: Mr. Todd. Did you just stick my mother figure in the oven? After killing hundreds of people and sticking them in pies? After killing the guy that beat me and starved me? (He flips out one of Sweeney's razors.)

Sweeney: Go away, noob. I killed my wife.

Audience: Well, at least this show can't get any creepier.

Chorus: (Shuffles feet awkwardly.)

Toby: Patty cake…patty cake…baker man. Bake me a cake- no. Bake me a pie. To delight my eye. And I will sigh if the crust be high…pat him. And prick him. And mark him with a 'B'. And put him in the oven. For Baby and me. (He slits Sweeney's throat.)

Audience: (Horrified silence.) I guess we spoke too soon. This is more awkward than 'Bat Boy'…

Cast of 'Bat Boy': Oh _hell_ no.

Children in the Audience: (Will never be able to think of 'patty-cake' in the same way ever, ever, ever again.)

Anthony, Johanna, and Policemen: (Arrive wayyyy too late.)

Toby: 'Scuse me, gennl'men and effeminate sailor guy-

Johanna: I'M A GIRL, YOU NOOBS. ANTHONY WAS JUST A JERK AND-

Anthony: Shut up and listen to the frightening Cockney Orphan.

Toby: You can't be here. Me mistress don't let nobody down here. Y'see, the secret is to grind the meat through three times. (He moves to the meat grinder and starts grinding through some forgotten corpse.) Three times…

Chorus: So…yeah…that's the whole thing. Creepy, no?

Audience: (Can do nothing but stare in petrified silence at the stage.)

Chorus: Uh…yeah…And that's the end of our play…

Drums and Cymbals: Badum-ching.


End file.
